


Closer the Better

by youknowmevj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ...Somewhat, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Harry Potter, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Voldemort (Harry Potter), Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Horcruxes, LV simps for Harry really, Obsessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Riddle(s) also simp for Harry, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), since Fem LV has that big dick energy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youknowmevj/pseuds/youknowmevj
Summary: The woman -the ungodly goddess of the dark- the one who was destined, prophesied, and largely obsessed to bedevil his life, the one who had made him the chosen one- was calling for him, waiting for him, in the forbidden forest."Give me Harry Potter", she had called, hissed, almost sung his name like a siren.-Lady Voldemort has made the worldhers.  But when Harry Potter discovers a series of truths and secrets about himself, his capture would be the least of his concerns.Or it would have been,ifVoldemort and the horcruxes weren’t so damn fixated on him.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Horcrux/Harry Potter
Comments: 96
Kudos: 333





	1. Give Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Welcome to this story. Honestly, there are so many Female HPs (I love them, don't get me wrong) out there but not enough Female LVs. This was my contribution to it.

The Dark Lady.

Amy Mavolto Riddle -

\- I Am Lady Voldemort.

Loathe as Harry was to admit it, there was no denying the fact that she was winning now.

The woman - the ungodly _goddess_ of the dark- the one who was destined, prophesied, and largely obsessed to bedevil his life, the one who had made him the chosen one- was calling for him, waiting for him, in the forbidden forest. 

" _Give me Harry Potter_ ", she had said, hissed, almost sung his name like a siren.

" _Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed._ "

The quest to hunt down her horcruxes seemed to be fruitless, in hindsight. He sat there in Dumbledore's office, near the pensieve - Snape's memory seemed to have upended his entire life in an instant, leaving him oddly bereft and disassociated - mulling over how he, Ron and Hermione had slaved days and nights pulling out all the stops to hunt down her horcruxes and completely destroy them. 

Though not a complete failure per say, they did succeed in finding the vile things, but what was the use of having them in his hand if he didn't even know how to destroy them? Hermione had theorized that the basilisk venom could destroy it and oh how they had rejoiced at finally having a lead. 

Gryffindor's sword gave them hope. But that's all in what it succeeded in.

The Locket, currently in his moleskin pouch, was their first attempt where the sword didn't even leave a tiny scratch on the deceptively delicate figures carved upon it.

The Ring was next. The Ring which had cursed Dumbledore's hand (Snape's revelation of the Headmaster's real cause of death made him feel infinitely worse) was intact as well. Dumbledore had given the Ring to Harry for safekeeping that fateful night at the astronomy tower, which he then kept on his ring finger all the time. The thought made Harry look at his right hand and he almost saw the band glow for a second.

They had then mused that direct use of the venom might do the trick, and hence their detour to the chamber of secrets amidst the raging battle. When the Cup and Diadem did nothing but slink away on the damp floor of the cold chamber under the force of the slain Basilisk's fang, neither of the three were surprised, after all. 

However, it did create a whole set of questions. _How_ did the diary get destroyed then? _Why_ wasn't the poison penetrating these items? Was it because this was jewellery?

And who knew that _Voldemort_ , could be such a bling lover in her youth? Such an odd thought to have at this moment, but was she attracted to jewellery, the way other girls were, when she was still the beautiful and bewitching Amy Riddle?

Harry internally scoffed. 

While it was impressive how she claimed the title as the dark's supreme with being a female in a man's world; she was a cruel, power hungry woman, who wasn't a woman at all. Her long pale face with jutted cheekbones and serpentine nose and crimson slits for eyes, often made a presence in his sleep. Long exposure to the horcruxes only increased their intensity. 

So here Harry sat, face pensive - in front of a pensieve, among horcruxes - with the fresh knowledge of being one of those horcruxes himself.

His life was a circus. An irony. Some might even be ridiculous enough to say it was poetic.

A part of Lady Voldemort's soul - of the woman who was set on killing him since the day he was born to this day of the final chapter of the war, -

" _Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched._ "

\- resided within him. Consumed with immortality as she was, it indeed feel like poetic justice to die while killing the boy she thought was her death. 

Two people tangled in a prophecy destined to die together. Harry was eminently angry with Dumbledore for hiding this fact but he sort of _understood_. It was for the greater good. He had to die. But of course nobody wanted to live with the fact that they carried such a shriveled soul inside them for the entirety of their school life. And Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the others deserved so much better than Harry's angst.

The thought of his friends halted his subconscious mind which knew what to do. They'd be so devastated by his death, but they'll live a better life...

 _Or will they_? The horcruxes still lived. All of them, except the diary. Who was to say she would be defeated if he died? Or who was to say he'd even die at all like the fucking horcruxes. _Stubborn, so stubborn._

But maybe, maybe if he could die by the dark lady's wand herself, could it be possible...

In any case , nothing could happen with just sitting there. Mind set and jaw clenched, he fixed the gaunt ring in his hand, pulled out the locket and wore it around his neck (the sudden heat made him almost jump), tucked the Cup and Diadem in his pouch and made for the exit.

He was ready.

_Or was he?_

_"Give me Harry Potter"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR  
> Voldy : Give me Harry Potter  
> Death eaters : We'll give you the world, my lady  
> Voldy : Give me Harry Potter  
> The order : No  
> Voldy : I said GIMME HAWWY POTTAH!  
> DE:  
> Order:  
> Harry : Ok, here you go you whiny brat


	2. In My Arms

_I open at the close._

His heart was pounding in his ribcage as he watched the shimmering gold closely. The snitch shone with luminescence against a background of dark shadows in the forest. The comprehension of what this small round object meant, had come with a jolting clarity.

This was about closure. The closure of _their_ story – a legend for many. The story of the Dark Lady and the Boy Who Lived.

He shivered as his lips met the cold metal.

“I am about to die.”

 _Click_. Even the noiseless sound of the shiny outward shell opening seemed to echo in the quietude. Perhaps it was a lousy attempt by the late Headmaster to make Harry laugh one last time before he walked to his doom, but the anguish of witnessing so many lifeless bodies in the Great Hall swallowed every shred of his self-deprecating humour. If war taught him one thing, it was that death wasn’t funny.

Thus when Harry was minutely disappointed to find only a note within the snitch, he considered it was reasonable to be upset after so much of agitated anticipation. It was a small piece of old parchment with a brief message in Dumbledore’s handwriting.

**_It is the pure souls who can fight the gloom of the dead._ **

**_But it is only the purest soul who can win and master it._ **

Just like with the snitch, Harry understood this note with sharp precision as Hermione’s tale of the three brothers came to the forefront of his mind. Funny how he was quick on the uptake only when it was the end. He brought his right hand in front of his chest, fingers of his left stroking the black stone embedded in the silver band. He slid the ring off its place from his hand very gingerly and brought it to eye level, gripping it between his thumb and index finger as if he had never examined it before. Eyes closed, he twirled the ring three times.

He laboured his eyes open and he saw them. Translucent with a very frail tether to the land of the living, he met his parents, Sirius and Lupin; _talked_ to them. He asked about death and about dying.

So immersed he was with the spirit of his loved ones, that he failed to notice how the horcruxes seemed suddenly lighter in weight. Nor could he catch sight of the indistinct and blurred apparitions of four young women steadfastly gazing at him from the shadows on the edge of his line of vision.

* * *

He stepped into the clearing. After what seemed like an eternity, he had put the ring back on his hand, which for some reason felt heavier. Maybe it was the weight of the fond expectations of the people he just met. The sweet reassurances of his parents and the two marauders galvanized him into moving his feet forward. He felt confident too until -

He saw her.

Lady Voldemort stood stationery with her head slightly bowed, twirling the Elder wand between long pale fingers in all her glory. Her skin gleamed in the embers of the fire burning in the centre, not unlike the moon right above the forest canopy so high. Her eyes were closed in a display of meditative calm. Silent and still, yet the most arresting figure of the entire affair. She donned the blackest of robes. Her rope-like hair – dreadlocks – gave impressions of black snakes, ready to attack at one command. She was an abyss in a chasm.

The Death eaters had joined their lady in the silent prayers of the night. None dared to speak.

With all the will power left within him, he pulled the invisibility cloak from his person to stand directly in front of her. With a quick flash, faster even than the reflexes of a snake, she opened her eyes. The blood red vision came first. The shocked gasps and belated jeering cries from the surroundings came second, even though it didn’t register as quickly as it perhaps should have.

“ _Harry Potter_ , you have come _,_ at long last.”

She was looking right through him. Unblinking and appraising eyes raked over him, dissected him. Her voice was a contradictory mix of a sibilant soliloquy assessing the character who was Harry James Potter, and a resonant assertion of how the boy had finally come to her.

Harry didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His tongue refused to cooperate even though he wanted to scream right into her face about what he had in his possession and how Voldemort was going to fuck herself over when she killed him. The snake – Nagini would be handled by Neville or Ron or Hermione as Harry had told them. He had faith.

Perhaps, his snarky thoughts made themselves known through his expressions since Voldemort’s lips curled upward in a hideous and cruel baring of lips. Lips as red as her eyes.

He absently noted the mocking laughs of the other dark wizards and witches, but for the most part, it was as if only He and Her existed. She might be feeling the same thing since she held her left hand up, directing all of them into silence at once.

Harry stood there with his head held high, his ringed hand inside his moleskin pouch ready to take the two horcruxes out of it while she continued to stare right into his very existence, the smile never leaving her face. Staring right into…

Right into…

_No._

_It cannot be._

_‘Oh, but it is…Harry.’_

Her mouth had not moved. Neither had he heard anything from his ears. His eyes widened at the same time as her lips.

_‘Carrying my preciousss soul, are you? Not only in your purse. Around your fragile finger. Around your delicate neck –‘_

_No no no_

_‘-but most astoundingly, also inssside yourself?’_

Just after that one final damning verbal – non – verbal confirmation, several things happened at once.

Voldemort shot a spell at him. Knotted stripes of black exuded out of her wand (not her wand, never her wand, the thief) racing towards him. He ducked and struck a _Diffindo_ across the broad ribbons. He didn’t waste any time while pulling the cloak back on him again. The Death Eaters who initially stood shell shocked at the sudden turn of events, had begun hunting high and low for him, scattering around like cockroaches in the clearing.

That’s when he registered Hagrid's muted screams yelling at him to protect himself. Harry jerked his head towards him. Confusion, terror and anger bubbled up in his heart all at the same time. Voldemort had so inconspicuously crawled in his mind to feast upon his plan for the final show down, the only one he had, as feeble as it felt now. It took one staring challenge to watch his plan of dying along with all the horcruxes crumbled to pieces like a serving of spotted dick.

He would wallow in self-pity later. First, he needed to get himself and Hagrid to safety.

He dashed towards the tree to which Hagrid was bound but in doing so, the flurry of his moments made the cloak over his feet to flutter.

It was Bellatrix who saw it first or… no it was Voldemort, Harry observed as he felt those crimson eyes discerning his location by his feet. Nonetheless it was the former woman who raised her wand.

“You filthy half-blood! AVADA KE-”

“Do not touch him. He’s MINE!”, Voldemort howled and blasted Bellatrix straight into the nearby bushes.

Harry would have taken vindictive pleasure in the bitch getting what she deserved for killing Sirius but he had to be quick if he wanted to free Hagrid and apparate along with him. Fixing his cloak, he sprinted to his half giant friend but just when he was two metres away from his destination, agony spiked through his forehead. Head-splitting pain coursed through him.

_'Foolish boy. Do you think you can escape me? You carry such precious treasure of mine. The idea that you think I would let go is an insult to me.”_

Harry couldn’t resist as he bit back. _'Yeah? Didn’t feel insulted when you threw your_ precious _treasures left right and centre across all Britain, did you?'_

 _‘Oh_ Harry _but I never had any fear of losing them._ ’ The smugness was dripping into the pain that was his scar. It was probably a game for that godforsaken woman.

The self-satisfied pretension did him in, or it could be the excruciating pain. Harry had her horcruxes but she had the gall of sounding so fucking _smug_. He glared at her from beneath his invisible barrier and bellowed at her with all the power his vocal chords possessed.

“KILL ME THEN! TAKE YOUR BLOODY TRINKETS BACK AND KILL ME!”

It was a very stupid mistake. He let his rage and frustration get the better of him which was truly deserving of Snape’s sneers but the potions master was dead and-

Needless to say, his booming voice gave him away and he found himself surrounded by several wands trained at him. Hagrid had become mute as his red rimmed wide eyes flickered all over to find him. Voldemort was quick off the mark to pin him to his location. It happened so rapidly that he didn’t even figure out how the wind started to gust through the region, effectively swaying his cloak off of him. Remarkable elemental wandless magic, he would later marvel.

“ _Accio_ Cloak!”, he tried in utter desperation, but it didn’t move. Of course it didn’t, immune as it was to most of the spells. In his distraction, he was almost caught in the whirlwind of spells darting towards him cast from the Elder Wand. He cast a weak _Protego_ from Draco’s wand but didn’t last long enough. He covered his face with his hand to block out the shattered remnants of the shield charm, when something happened.

The spell shot by Voldemort had contacted with the Resurrection stone on his finger. Blue sparks emanated out of the glassy black surface to meet halfway across their red counterpart from the Deathstick, coalescing in a dazzling dance amidst the awestruck spectators. Even Voldemort had stopped hurling spells to watch the staging act, or perhaps she just couldn’t, considering it was from _that_ from which the magic was emitting. It was like the _Priori Incantantem_ all over again, but with the deathly hallows instead of brother wands.

It was at this time that he heard a shrill screaming of a young woman.

_‘NOOO! Save me Harry! Save me. Stop her. It hurts. It hurts!’_

It appeared as though he was alone to hear it and he felt compelled, _possessed_ , to save whoever had called for him. He pulled his ringed hand down and just as abruptly, the lights vanished leaving murk in its wake again. Harry took a deep breathe to calm down but it seemed Voldemort had long since recovered. It was only too late to react once the stunning spell hit him right in the middle of the chest. He fell down on the ground like a statue as she made her way towards him. Crouching on her knees, her red eyes like molten fire met his, ready to devour him piece by piece. Her face betrayed nothing, but the colossal waves of emotions she remitted across the scar was too much to handle. Her emotions screamed mostly of surprised revelation, but also awe, mild vexation, and bewildered _yearning_. A yearning for what, Harry did not know.

 _“Gorgeous.”,_ she hissed – words only the two of them and Nagini could understand among them.

She straightened up and with a slight wave of her fingers, levitated him straight into her arms. She raked her right hand through the back of his skull as her left held him securely at the waist. Voldemort was so tall that Harry’s head had nestled in the hollow of her breasts. She smelled of dark magic. To Harry’s utter horror, beneath the disgust he felt at so intimately hugging the demonic woman, there was the similar yearning he felt deep inside his body. It sung. No longer was his scar hurting but he did feel certain things. The cavity of his chest where the locket sat, burned. His finger where the ring sat, it chilled. The moleskin pouch was shaking. It felt, it felt like euphoria. Voldemort herself breathed a contented sigh and tightened her right hand in his hair. She kept on hugging him as she whispered in his ears,

_“Mine. Your soul, your blood, the parts of me you carry with you – All mine.”_

_No no no_

_“Harry, how long will your denial last? Do you not feel it? You yearn for_ me. _”_

 _No no no._ His blood ran cold. It felt like a fate worse than death.

“I shall return soon, my followers. Await my orders.”

“Yes my lady.”

“Of course, my lady.”

No one seemed to know what had transpired but they dared not guess. Harry was horrified but literally spell-bound. He couldn’t even twitch his eyebrow through the stunning spell.

With her fingers still carding through his hair, he was apparated away in Voldemort’s arms. The last thing he saw were two despaired and disbelieving faces – One of Hagrid and the other of Bellatrix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR  
> Harry : KILL ME BITCH  
> Voldy : No.  
> Harry : I have your horcruxes! Ha!  
> Voldy : Ok Cool. Buy one get four free. Come with me baby. *winks*  
> Harry :  
> Harry :  
> Harry : WHAT?


	3. At Your Place

Harry had expected his feet to alight upon the cold floors of a daunting dungeon, but in reality, his feet didn’t touch any surface at all. Was he being levitated? He couldn’t place anything correctly since his head was congested with post-apparition effects. Shaking his head to settle the skewed glasses back on his face, he quickly blinked his eyes open. 

No, he was not being levitated, but it was something tremendously _more_ terrifying. Being levitated by James Potter and the Marauders had left such mental scars on Severus Snape – even Harry had deeply empathized with his old professor– that finding a situation even _more_ humiliating said a lot about his current state of affairs. 

To his utter horror and disbelief, he was being carried by _Lady_ _Voldemort_ , one arm under his legs and the other supporting his back, in front of her tall imposing body. _Voldemort_ had him _cradled_ in her arms, cushioning him like a babe or akin to a newly-wed bride. Worse yet, his hands were clutched on the upper front of her black robes. The fabric was deceptively soft, so unlike its owner. Harry turned bright red; never had he been this appalled with himself. Hesitantly, he raised his head for green eyes to catch the ogress’ face. For once, it did not display any complacency. 

In fact, it was completely void of any emotions. She wore a perfect mask on her serpentine features. If anything, it made Harry warier of her snake-like eyes which were trained on him. 

Harry instantly withdrew his hands from her robes along with his gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. He couldn’t bear to _touch_ her, not after experiencing the baffling emotions right before he was ripped away from the Forbidden Forest. It should have hurt. He had not forgotten the touch of the cold tip of her long white finger in the graveyard, when he had thought his head would burst with blinding pain. Not even minutes ago, he had endured a similar searing torment when Voldemort was trying to find him in the woods. 

Be that as it may, the inexplicable _contentment_ he had been subjected to directly after he fell in her embrace, he could swear he never felt anything like it before. Her hands, calloused and cold in appearance, had felt so _warm_. Even now, her chest which should be hollowed in absence of fragments of a fractured soul, Harry found himself drawn to it and… 

No. 

He tried to squirm his way out of her hold, but found that he couldn’t. He was capable of some movement, such as his hands, but only just so. Her cloying magic clung to him, pulling him taut, which was equally unnerving as it was remarkable. 

“Let me down.” 

Voldemort instinctively tightened her hold on him and narrowed her eyes. 

“I said, Let. Me. Down.” 

The woman continued staring at him unblinkingly, the tight grip on his legs and spine never relenting. It made me feel so _small_. Not to mention, it was disturbingly intimate; not that he expected any sense of privacy from the Dark Lady. 

Seconds, probably minutes, passed by but the two of them seemed to be frozen in time. Harry was getting embarrassingly uncomfortable by the minute and his thoughts were scrambling in order to decide his next course of action, when he felt _amusement_ tickle at the back of his mind which he belatedly realised was not his own. Infuriated, he thumped his fist into her shoulder a bit forcefully. And yet, she refused to unfasten his body from hers. 

_“Careful, little one._ _Mistress shall not hesitate to feed me your flesh should you displease her very much_.” At first, Harry was confused since Voldemort didn’t appear to open her mouth but then he saw the snake – Nagini – slither out of the corners. 

Harry didn’t bother to reply. If anything, maybe the reptile was right and he could anger his way to death. 

_“No need to frighten the boy, dear pet.”,_ the woman hissed before signalling her familiar to rest beneath her feet. 

Such a bloody hypocrite. 

Suddenly, Harry felt his body loosen up and he realised he could move freely again. Immediately backing away from her hold, his feet landed on the floor. _Finally._

Harry gave Voldemort a once over. Not a hair was out of place. She carried herself with a sedulous care, which naturally commanded attention on her person – be it fear or awe. Or anger, in his case. _He,_ on the contrary, looked a dreadful sight. Burgeoning bruises smirched his slightly tanned body, splotches of dark blood visible at various sections of his frame and his dark hair was utter chaos. 

Liberated from her hands and magic, he distanced himself from her and quickly surveyed his surroundings, no longer obstructed. His eyes widened in shock as his gaze roamed around the spacious room, panelled in dark wood; the high walls set in precious tapestries depicting a gruesome hunting scene. A huge fireplace, with smouldering embers, took up one side. A large table, stationed in front of a huge mirror with some chairs strewn about on its side, was on the other side of the room next to the tall, narrow latticed windows. Candles glowed a soft light from silver candlesticks all over the room. A wooden four-poster practically a mile wide, complete with canopies and dark curtains on the sides of the quarters. It was heaped with pillows, with thick fur coverlets in addition to blankets on the crisp sheets, already turned down. 

Harry _knew_ this place. Even though there were slight variations since he remembered being here, he knew where he currently was. It was impossible not to. 

He was in Regulus Black’s room at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. 

_How had Voldemort found about it? It was supposed to be a secret!_ Oh, how his blood boiled with the knowledge that she stood in a place which he considered a safe haven, a place where he and all of his friends, his _family_ shared the better part of his school years. Was this a joke? Some mocking trick of Voldemort’s where she replicated one of the only places he felt safe at with her tainted magic? 

“No Harry, Lady Voldemort has no value for duplicates.” This is was the first time she had directly spoken to him after bringing him _here, actually here_. 

“How dare you?” 

Harry did not care if he was at her mercy. He did not _care_ what happened to him, but he would not let his godfather’s last memory get sullied by her. Not like this. 

In a split second, she was inches from him and Harry found his upper arm caught in the ridiculously strong grip of Voldemort. He was met with an intent gaze, tenacious and unmoving, as if the Dark Lady was perfectly content to just stare down at Harry and watch him squirm in her claw-like grasp. 

“How dare I what, _Harry_ _Potter_?” 

Her eyes were raging, summoning a war of words, promising him endless torture should Harry step a toe out of line but refused to back down. 

“You know perfectly well what this house means to me.”, Harry ventured. He needed to keep his cool somewhat while dealing with the devil. 

Voldemort bared her teeth. “Of course.” 

Scratch that. Harry would never be able to keep his cool with _her._ “THEN WHY?! YOU-” 

Nerve-racking _pain_ exploded in his forehead once again. 

“You are drawing fire, Harry Potter. You will do well to remember who holds the reigns now, and not only over you. Your precious little friends are a wand’s breath away from the end of their wretched wasted lives. I have the world by the tail and soon Harry, you will witness a magnificent and glorious era ruled by Lady Voldemort.” 

And despondent reality crept back in, settling its distressing roots in the visceral pits of his mind. 

Harry had _lost_ .He had _failed_ all of them. Not only fail, rather, he delivered Voldemort’s victory to her himself, in a decorated silver platter. He had presented himself to her along with the horcruxes like a lamb to the slaughter only to realise she didn’t want a slaughter _at all_ but a caged _pet_. 

“I…I’ll kill myself! I will kill myself and take the rest of your horcruxes too!” It sounded pathetic even to his own ears. 

Her other hand came to clasp his left wrist, directly upon his pulse point. She chuckled darkly. 

“Such a desperate little _weakling_ . _No Harry, death will never have you. Any of you_.” 

Harry Potter was many things, but he was not a _weakling._ He had fought this woman since the day he was born into this world. He had fought when she was at the back of Quirell’s head and he had fought when she had set her newly resurrected foot over Cedric’s cooling body. He was a Gryffindor through and through. But that did not mean, for all intents and purposes, he had no traits of Slytherin at all. He had to keep calm and find his vantage point. 

“How can you be so sure?” _Give away something, anything. Why, why can’t the horcruxes be defeated?_

“Because, I have safeguarded them.”, she responded dismissively and the hand on his shoulder proceeded to glide over to his chest, deftly picking up the Slytherin locket, as if weighing it for what it worth. It grew warmer. Harry tried his best not to flinch. 

“But you haven’t safeguarded _me_ .”, he hedged confidently though in all honesty, what did it matter? Harry wondered. What was _Harry_ to her? Only one of seven? She bore the loss of the Diary, surely she could bear his too? 

“Your thoughts amuse me greatly Harry, especially since your mind is so impervious to the obvious. No matter, I will state it for you. _I shall not let any fatal harm come to you, Harry Potter_ . Not only are you the bearer of my soul; but something... _more._ ” 

_What?_

She didn’t even need the ability to read his mind, so clear was the question on his bewildered face. 

“While you were too busy hunting down my horcruxes, my valuable time was employed to a research of paramount importance. Would you wish to know what I found Harry?”, she grinned like a Cheshire cat toying with a rather unassuming mouse. 

“What?” _Honestly, she could be just as cryptic as_ \- 

“Dumbledore?”, Voldemort completed with a cynical smirk drawn on her mouth. “Oh Harry, how the old man has exploited you, orchestrated this entire war.” 

“You don’t know a _thing_ about his and mine-” 

“Do you know Harry, how he has lied to you? Did he _tell_ you the entire truth of the prophecies?” 

She was fabricating a lie. Manipulating him against his own. _Wait-_

“Prophec- _ies_?” 

It was clear by how _triumph_ made itself known through their mental connection that Voldemort was eagerly waiting for him to ask this question. 

“Yes _Harry_ . Prophecies. There were not one, but _two_ prophecies made concerning you. If I had not undertaken the quest to the truth myself, no one would have ever known.” 

“It cannot be.”, Harry said. His voice fitted the state of his body –ragged, rent and thin. 

“IT CANNOT BE!”, he shouted at the top of his voice, his face hot red with blood, panting. How was it possible? How was it, that Harry James Potter had such rotten luck that he was a subject of not one, but _two_ strings of statements, dictating his life as if he was just a puppet driving on a predestined path for someone’s sadistic entertainment? If the Dark Lady was indeed telling the truth, then why had Dumbledore hidden it from him? Why him though, after all he wasn’t even -” 

_“_ _No_ _my_ _precioussss_ _, you are very_ _ssspecial_ _. ”_

She was now cradling his head between her hands but Harry had no mind. He was _furious._ Furious over himself, over Voldemort, over Dumbledore and over Fate herself. 

“What is it? What does it say?” 

The tall woman paused in her ministrations and just smirked at him again. “Harry, you are covered with grim and soil. This room, I have given to you. Clean yourself and take rest. I shall return soon.” 

As much as he wanted to know about the prophecy, Voldemort was unlikely to tell him if she didn’t want to. Harry didn’t think he could digest it yet anyway. Moreover, if she was leaving then it meant - 

“No wait! What about everyone else? My friends? They…you promised. You promised that you won’t harm them if I came to you.” 

“Promised indeed. But Lady Voldemort had never vowed to such a thing.” 

“Excuse me? What do you mean? You cannot! I will not let you!” 

“Ludicrous, how you still think you can _save_ anyone from me. Nevertheless, this moment is the most joyous – I have won Harry. I grant you this. I shall spare everyone who put their faith in me from this point forward. Those who do not, shall face my wrath.” 

“But they will never readily accept you. At the very least, give them some time!” 

“Time, you ask. I shall give you time, if you beg. _Beg_ to me Harry. _Beg me for mercy_.” 

Beyond affronted, he considered spitting on her monstrous face but knew it would achieve nothing. He needed to save his friends. He could at least purchase some time for them. 

He averted his eyes, fixing his eyes on the window curtains as his timid voice echoed in the room. 

“Please. Please give them some time, I... beg you.” It tasted like ash in his mouth. Voldemort on the other hand was so full of _wonderous pleasure_ that it pulsed erratically down their link like a rapid heartbeat. 

“Fair enough, my dear. I shall not physically harm any witch or wizard, child or adult, currently taking shelter at Hogwarts until they pledge their unconditional loyalty to me. I am after all, the most merciful Lady. Remember however, if they come out of the Castle and are caught, nothing could stop their execution. 

“Fine. Know that if you ever hurt Hermione or Ron -” 

“You will what Harry? _Kill me?_ You cannot. _Kill my horcruxes?_ You cannot. _Kill yourself?_ Do not let such asinine ideas fester your mind. I shall burn the world to cinders if you even attempt and the one solely responsible for the ruins would be you. What then, _escape_ ? I will never let you. I have you Harry Potter. As I said, I have you as _mine_.” 

“I will never be yours!” 

“We shall see, my little horcrux.” 

“You are being too overconfident _Amy_.” 

Hot knives ripped his head apart, his head was been repeatedly thrown on rocks, _pain so much pain so much-_

“ _Never call me by that name_.” Harry made a choking sound has one hand came to claw at his throat and the other pulled at his hair so mercilessly. 

The horcruxes reacted to the name as much as Voldemort did, albeit differently. The locket was suddenly glowing a green shade so vividly, and the pain soothed a little – as if it was a healing salve. The ring was casting tingles up his body, trying to ease his tension. 

It was surprising to both Voldemort and him. Clearly, the soul pieces had never reacted like this before. Harry was lost in the contradicting sensations, he didn’t realise how her eyes had narrowed on his side hip. 

In the blink of an eye, she summoned his moleskin pouch in her hand. 

“Hey-” 

“Open it.” 

“No.” 

“Open it or I shall start with that half giant of yours.” 

“You just vowed-” 

“Which clearly stated that it related to the humans residing _within_ the castle, I’m sure you remember Harry?”, the smugness was back with full force. 

Harry however, was terrified. How could he have _forgotten_? 

With great reluctance, Harry took his pouch-which _Hagrid_ had given him-back from her hands. 

“Pull out my horcruxes, Harry.” 

Harry put his hand in the bag and pulled out the Diadem and the Cup, which seemed to vibrate under his touch. Apprehension filled his mind has he handed them over to her. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to ask him to take out anything else-though she did ask for the pouch back. 

“Excellent.” Without another word or explanation, Voldemort stepped even closer to him and placed the goblet in his hand. She had not finished. The Dark Lady with her slitted pupils so wide that they were practically orbs now, set the glittering diadem on his head. 

On his head. 

He didn’t have words to express how thoroughly befuddled he was. He blinked a couple of times to clear is disoriented mind but for the life of him, couldn’t understand what was happening. Was it even happening? 

He was in a trance when Voldemort steered him in front of the mirror. 

_“Exquisite. Such a magnificent sight you make, my Harry. Do you see what is do?”_

Voldemort hissed in parseltongue as she stood behind him, holding his waist with both of her hands. 

_“I see how my locket encases your tender little neck.”_

She lowered her head to mouth at the nape of his neck; Harry shivered. 

_“I see how pretty you look, holding the cup I gave you.”_

She extended her right hand to slide it down his arm, finally coming to rest on top of his knuckles holding the golden goblet. His skin raised with goosebumps. 

_“I see how insufferably ravishing you appear with my crown adorning your lovingly frangible head.”_

She gently bit the ear closest to her mouth as Harry released a very embarrassing sound. 

_“My ring encages your small thin finger, marking you as mine. Mine, entirely mine.”_

Here, she practically twirled him around while pressing herself even _closer_ and in a quick movement, confined his lips between her teeth. Voldemort held it there and ran her tongue along his wet lips, and savagely entered his mouth. 

Harry wasn’t lucid anymore. He felt as if he wasn’t controlling his body and was just sailing in a ship, going in the flow of the currents. It was illogical, how he _craved_ for it. His hands flew up to her breasts, in a feeble attempt to push her away. The rest of the body, however, _wanted_ it. 

It was dizzying. It seemed to last for ages, with their mouths locked – Voldemort devouring his lips, his _soul_ ... 

He heard several lilting voices. Not of several people, but rather, of the the same person – a woman crooning his name– multiple times. It sounded... 

It sounded like _Riddle. Amy Riddle...like the_ _Penseive_ _, like the Diary._

_‘Oh, beautiful little Harry.’_

‘ _Feel, how he longs for us. Just as we long for him._ ’ 

_‘Ours’_

‘ _Forever ours.’_

_‘Wait for us. Wait for us Harry.’_

_‘Soon we will join you in the fathomless pleasure,_ _preciousssss_ _’_

_Ssssoooon_ _Ssssoooon_ _Ssssoooon_

Voldemort didn’t seem to listen to any of it and she continued torturing his lips. Since the moment the voices of _Riddle_ begin ringing in his ears, the desire which sprouted its deadly wings in the pit of his stomach, grew exponentially. He sighed heavily and just as he went to close his eyes, Voldemort pulled back. 

“Oh Harry, you’ll ruin me. Sleep. I’ll visit later, my precious. _Nagini, keep an eye on him_.” 

_"Yes, mistress"_

In an anticlimactic finish to the lechery she started, Voldemort vanished amidst a flurry of black robes, leaving him covered in her jewellery like a dolled up wife bidding farewell to her husband. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR  
> Voldy: I just want a Harry, Harry, Harry, with my jewellery,  
> I already got some death eaters to hold up his friends for me.  
> I just want a boy who lived under me so I look better when I dance,  
> Have you lookin' at it, put you in a trance.
> 
> Harry: *surprised pikachu face*  
> ***  
> Hey guys! I hope you liking it so far! If yes, please do comment - they give my wretched soul some life! If no, still comment, it'll help me improve (I'm not a native English speaker).  
> Btw I plan to reveal the horcruxes soon. Harry will be rolled in a Riddle sandwich with Voldy on the top *evil laughter*
> 
> Also, kudos to the person who gets which song I've used in the note!


	4. My Precious Two

Apparition cracks were inherently meant to be quite loud, but the near ear-splitting howl of frustration that left Harry’s mouth the _moment_ she vanished into thin air, was a thousand times more powerful. The screams had siphoned all of his energy (or whatever was left of it) though, because he instantly lost the ability to stand on his feet. Trembling with frustration, – and Harry would _never_ agree that some of that frustration was _not_ so innocent, after all - the boy unceremoniously collapsed on the ground like a miserable forlorn elf. 

The Goblet slipped from his now weakened grasp and it went spinning to hit the leg of one of the leather chairs at the back. He then tightly squeezed his eyes shut in the hope to block most of what had happened in the last few hours. When that didn’t help, he curled his fists and punched the tile beneath his knees. 

He saw those red, slitted eyes—the depth of those volcanic irises—burning on the inside of his eyelids. 

He punched the tile twice more. 

“Bitch,” Harry breathed the word out. 

It took him a couple of minutes to still his trembling body. The deep gash which sat on the back of his hand had reopened. Regulating his breathe was a particularly difficult task so he let the pain in his knuckles anchor him. His entire body ached, Harry noticed, now that there was nothing better to do. The bodily pain was, however a very trivial issue in the grand scheme of things, but at least it was something which reminded him of the reality, even if felt very unreal, in an entirely unplanned situation. 

A planned-but-which-went-horribly-wrong situation, if he was honest with himself. 

Instinctively, his gaze was driven to the spot where he had stood earlier- facing the mirror and then against it. He shuddered, hair standing tall on the back of his neck. Harry would have dearly wished to consider all of this as just a weird daydream, if he could only ignore the contradictory evidence slammed right across his face. 

How _could_ he? When teeth indents and savagely broken skin painted his red swollen lips? Or should he cut off his own tongue where it sat heavy in his mouth, filled with the taste of ... _Voldemort_ ? Thick frosted _venom_ , it was. But when it met his mouth, it melted like a sun thawing the Arctic, leaving bitter sweetness in its wake. Even his ears felt scalding with all the nibbling the Dark Lady had done over the expanse. His own guilt was somewhere mixed along the contents. In fact, Harry was so peeved, he likened the nibbling act to a cow leisurely grazing on grass after a long-lasting drought. 

He mentally snorted. 

_What exactly did she plan to achieve by this_ ? Her hunger, longing or whatever, appeared to be genuine enough, according to his judgement. Was the piece of her soul inside of him enthralling her attention? Perhaps Harry wasn’t the only one to be thrown off balance with all those mind-boggling emotions and sensations. That looked like the most plausible explanation to the veneer of gratification and fulfilment projected when they shared personal space, which apparently kindled her urges to get so... _intimate_ with him. 

Come to think of it, _did he actually_ _snog_ _Voldemort_ ? No, the other way around. _Did_ Voldemort _actually snog him?_ _Thi_ _s was absolutely barmy!_

Even though he was unreservedly disconcerted from even recalling the scene, there were still so many questions sprouting in his brain, in urgent need for some fodder. He could theorise, but was actually afraid, since he always ended up barking up the wrong tree. 

Nevertheless, if he was indeed right about the soul shard within him beckoning the Dark Lady, then why didn’t the other horcruxes captivate her to the same extent? She didn’t appear to be hell bent on cradling those blasted things in her arms like she did with him, and if his memory served well, she barely touched them at all. Although, he did have to concede to the fact that the vessels began behaving very abnormally ever since he entered into the Forbidden Forest. 

Did she intend to bring her horcruxes back to life by using his magic and life fuelling it, just like how a sixteen-year-old Amy Riddle used Ginny? While not an entirely absurd assumption since you didn’t need straight Os in NEWTS to surmise the alarming rate of increased sentience in the said objects, he didn’t think that was it. This method would eventually result in his death and it was quite evident that the Dark Lady didn’t particularly desire to kill him, not right now anyway. 

Considering the lack of adequate information, Harry decided to put his verdict on hold. Even so, his shoulders remained stiff with one particularly distracting declaration triumphing over all others. 

“ _Not only are you the bearer of my soul; but something.._. _more._ ” 

What details he had been privy to, were just a drop in the bucket. 

Because, of _course_ there was more to it. She also mentioned the existence of _two_ prophecies. Even if he decided that Voldemort was lying - which he _didn’t_ (gut feeling and observations, both influencing factors), then there were still plenty of stand-alone mysteries he needed to take the lid off of. The invincible horcruxes, the prophecy and what Voldemort knew of it made it to the front of the list. Furthermore, he couldn’t turn a blind eye to Voldemort’s plans for the Wizarding and Muggle world alike, no matter what. 

Harry might have failed in vanquishing the Dark Lady, but he would pull out all the stops to thwart her plans at every step of the way with as much insider information as he could gather. He would have to do something to unbottle all these pesky secrets as soon as possible and even take a chance to stop her, if the fates were gracious enough to present such an opportunity to him. 

His head had started to throb by the excessive use of brain functions, when he was already so exhausted. What wouldn’t he do to get Hermione to take the lead in planning and hypothesising, with him and Ron cheering her from the back. 

He released a whimpering sound. The thought of his friends caused despair to sink its vicious claws in his heart. After lamenting their separation for quite some time, he channelised it into a propellant in his mission to save the lives of his friends. 

A renewed sense of purpose worked wonders in clearing his mind and his body lose some of its lethargy. Hence, it was only now that he realised how one of his fingers was idly stroking the blunt edges of the resurrection stone jutting out from the ring. 

Lips curled down at the comprehension that he still wore her items. Harry made to pull the horcrux from his scraggly hair, but abruptly let his hand dangle in mid-air when incessant hissing noises originated from the right side of the bed. 

It was like a splash of cold water. How had he forgotten that there was such a huge predator in the same room as him? 

_“Do not remove it, you stupid human! Our mistress asked me to watch over you and make sure you didn’t come to harm. I am also supposed to warn her if you try to escape or put her treasures aside.”_

Predator or not, he wasn’t going to put up with her snake-shit. 

_“Oh, I will do as I please!”,_ Harry snapped at her. “ _And don’t call her that. She might be_ your _mistress, but not mine.”_

Now decidedly even more aggravated, he quickly stood up and stretched his arm above his head to detach the diadem knotted along the tangles of his hair. Just when his fingers brushed the silver metal though, a huge green mass came hurling down on him faster than the speed of light, toppling with him straight to the harsh ground. 

" _Do not displace it you idiot child_! _She will be very furious._ ” 

In a blink of an eye, Nagini had constricted his small body with her reptilian figure, slithering down his body like free real estate. If Harry didn’t know any better, he was ready to have kissed at least one part of his body goodbye tonight but he knew she wouldn’t fatally injure him. Not like she tried at Godric’s Hollow on Christmas Eve. 

Nevertheless, she hissed and bared her fangs menacingly in an explicit promise to shred him to pieces should he disobey her any longer. 

“ _Get off me_.” 

“ _Not until I am sure you will listen to me, little one._ ” 

At a standstill, since Nagini was not allowed to hurt him and Harry couldn’t either (not due to the lack of willingness, mind), he decided to drop it. Nagini weighed a dozen of hippogriffs and losing the ability to breathe wasn’t worth it. 

_“Fine, I won’t remove them. Now get off me, you giant snake!”_

Nagini flicked her forked tongue in satisfaction and Harry swore that if she were a human, her mouth would curl up with superiority notunlike her mistress. She slipped down his body, turning her head around, most likely to check if he acted out of place, and parked herself on the bed again. 

“ _I have a name. Call me Nagini.”_

_Never mind_ that she just threatened to shatter his bones to pieces, she had the _audacity_ to sound so friendly. 

_“And what? Do you expect me give you the permission to call me Harry?”_

“ _Harry? Hmm...No speaker has ever had such a funny name. It sounds...extraordinary, especially when mistress uses it. I think I shall call you that too,_ _Harrrry_ _.”_ She emitted some gurgling noises which he belatedly realised was the snake-equivalent of chuckling, because seemingly, snakes had a unique sense of humour of their own. 

_What on earth?_

Harry stayed glued to where he stood, skewering her with his eyes. He would never have pegged Nagini as a creature who gave even two knuts about friendly banter. 

_“Harrryy, you are very unclean. Nagini would not tolerate such filth in this room. Go to the bath chamber and clean yourself.”_

A retort was eagerly waiting to be let out from the back of his throat but a bath _did_ sound a bit nice and that would also mean - 

_“Alright._ _But, of course_ _you know, I would have to remove the ...treasures from my body to do that?”_

_“Don’t be stupid. You can do it without that.”_

Harry scowled. _“Why are you so hell bent on -”_

_“I do not question mistress’ commands. You shouldn’t as well.”_

_“She’s not my -!”_

_“Whatever, little brat. Go and clean yourself up and come back. You are told to sleep and rest. I shall too, it is too cold. The fireplace is not to be used, and do not try to drown yourself in the water.”_

_“Oh?”,_ he intoned with one curious eyebrow raised. 

_“Yes, mistress specifically asked me to tell you that.”_

_“When did she even? I didn’t hear anything of the sort!”_

_“She did, just after you two had finished.... sharing your warmth with each other.”_

Harry spluttered, he had not noticed anyone else in the room at that moment, for quite some time it seemed, since he obviously missed the entire conversation between Voldemort and her pet snake. 

Not seeing the point in prolonging this discussion any further, he quickly made his way to the narrow passage in the room leading to the bathroom door after sending a scathing glance at the snake’s direction. 

Shutting the door, he exhaled noisily. It was a very bizarre day. 

Now that he was out of immediate danger, he felt weary and his mind was as active as a troll. That did not mean he was lulled in a false sense of security by any chance, however. And since escape was still the first thought hammering his survival instincts, he scrutinized the entire bathroom for anything that might aid his self-initiated rescue. The bathroom was windowless, unexpectedly modern, spacious and richly tiled. There was a toilet in the far end corner separated only by a translucent shimmering curtain. It reminded him of his cloak and he decided to ask Voldemort about it as soon as possible. 

An opulent bathtub sat attached to the left side of the wall, enough to fit three grown persons if needed. There was a shower facing the tub, and a marble sink right next to where he stood. The mirror above the sink made it evident how he stood out like a sore thumb in this squeaky-clean setting. 

Something was rather...odd about this whole thing, though. The bathroom was moderately luxurious but not overly so. Neither did it remind him of anything in particular. Then what? 

_Oh._ He mouthed the word, making the mirror foggy with his warm breath. He immediately did a second appraisal of the room, drawing the same conclusion. It wasn’t _meant_ to be there. Harry had almost forgotten that he was at Grimmauld’s Place and he was absolutely sure that there was no bathroom in Regulus’ bed chamber. 

That meant Voldemort had used her magic to expand the area and include one on her own. _When did she get the time?_ Because as far as Harry knew, he and Voldemort had apparated to the house together. Did that mean she had already been here? _Oh god._

He all but ripped off the dirty rags from himself and stepped into the shower. A quick wandless _Impervius_ to his glasses. Hermione had taught him that in the Forest of Dean. That was the first wandless charm which he carried out so perfectly. According to her, Harry always had an affinity for wandless magic; he just needed proper guidance and determination for it. _Lily Evans’ genes show in you boy, even if only scarcely._ Griphook had once off handedly commented. 

He turned the tap on. The water was hot. _Good._

Okay. So Voldemort was here before all the Forbidden Forest fiasco. But why was she here? _How_ was she here? Was she so confident that Harry would give in? So many bloody questions. Harry would prefer to give the History of Magic OWLs again over this mind-fuckery, for Merlin’s sake. 

Infuriating as it was, - Voldemort being here when he was none-the-wiser was a troubling thought, since it meant they could have been caught at any given moment when on the run from the snatchers – he couldn’t find any good reason for her to be interested in being in this wretched house. The locket was already with them at Hogwarts and the only living thing inside was - 

His eyes widened. 

_Kreacher_. Where was Kreacher? 

Harry could _swear_ on his magic that the person or creature who valued this house the most above all, was Kreacher. The nasty old house elf would never abandon the Black house, not for anything. Had Bellatrix ordered something from him? His teeth bared in a snarl and unwittingly he swallowed some water up his trachea. 

He almost thought about calling the house elf’s name. Surely, he could escape like at the Malfoy Manor? Like how _Dobby -_ his gulped some water even though he was coughing. He couldn’t lose himself in mourning his loved ones all the time. It would be an insult to those who lost their lives in the war. He would not, _could not_ be weak. 

In any case, calling Kreacher didn’t sound like the best idea. Harry was officially his master thanks to his godfather, but he wasn’t sure of the specifics. If Bellatrix – with her Black blood – had found a loophole to get to the elf, he would truly lose his footing. Not to mention, Voldemort might have learnt from her old experiences with house elves, given that not one, but _two times_ the miserable creatures had tricked her. 

He was going to get to the bottom of this. All these questions would be answered, one way or another. 

Until then, he had to bide his time. Learn and plot his way around this mess. 

Harry had scrubbed his skin raw while his thoughts had taken a dark turn and grimaced at all the blood leaking on the wet floor. He did feel fresh, however – especially his head felt lighter even though the tiara hadn’t moved an inch and seemed to sparkle through the droplets of water covering it. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, reaching for his clothes – they were still dirty but he wasn’t about to ask Nagini for clothes of all people... 

He frowned. 

_Where were his clothes?_

His clothes were gone. _Gone!_

He wildly looked around in case he missed them somehow but there was nothing. Not even a _towel._ His skin went red at all places, from anger, a hot shower or humiliation, he did not care to decide. 

In no possession of a wand, conjuring clothes was neigh possible. He forced a harsh breath out of his nostrils and tried to level his voice lest he scream like a banshee. 

_“Nagini. Where are my clothes?”_ Parseltongue did an excellent job at making him sound normal. He guessed, in English it would have been an absurd mixture of frustration, disbelief and embarrassment. 

He could only thank the gods that Voldemort wasn’t here. 

The stupid snake did not reply for the longest time. He was just about to shout again when he heard something sliding on the floor and suddenly, there was a head poking from the space between the tiles and the door. Harry shrieked as he went to the toilet and closed the curtains. 

_“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”_

_“Don’t be shy stupid Harrry. Your human anatomy does not interest me.”_ She flicked her forked tongue, her body now entirely inside the room. 

_“_ _Of course_ _it doesn’t! I bet you like_ _snakey_ _anatomy...Voldemort probably uses your slimy tail as her - ”_

_“DO NOT DARE, LITTLE HUMAN!”_

_“THEN GIVE ME MY CLOTHES BACK!”_

It looked as if Nagini seriously considered just putting an end to his pathetic existence and Harry would most definitely think he was an idiot to insult Voldemort like that – but he was beyond outraged! 

_“I would have...considering that mistress had instructed me to give you fresh coverings but you do not deserve it. I shall tell her of your misbehaviour and she would most likely agree with your punishment.”_

Harry gaped from behind the sheer wall because there was no way he was going to walk and sit on that bed – _naked._

_“You cannot do this! I am telling you this now! If you do not give me something to wear...I...I will remove all of the jewellery from my body!”_

He felt a sudden jolt of shock from the said jewellery pieces when he said this – but he dismissed it as a trick of the mind. 

_“Such a stubborn little brat. Two-legged boys are all stupid. The only boy worthy of my attention was Credence. All others are a complete waste and should be eaten.”_

_“Are you giving me clothes or not?”_

_“Fine! I will give you something.”_

She slithered out again and carried something in her mouth when she returned. 

“ _Take it_.” She ordered, after placing a black-something on a nearby wooden stool. 

Harry stepped out to take it, all sense of modesty at a pause since he reasoned that Nagini was just a foul-mouthed animal. However, that sense of modesty returned like a boomerang when he picked the ‘black-something’ in his hands. 

_“No way.”,_ his eyes popped out, matching the round of his glasses. 

_“Be grateful you are at least getting something after uttering such filth from your mouth.”_

_“This is...unbelievable!”_

The ‘black something’ was an _underwear_. No, not just any underwear, but thin, silky, sheer and laced. It was fucking _lingerie_ which he sometimes caught Ginny discussing with Hermione in hushed voices in their sixth year. 

It was obvious that this Voldemort’s doing. He could even catch a whiff of her smell on it. Was this hers? Did she wear it beneath her robes? 

_Good God_ , he was going to be sick. _What a perverted old lady._ He immediately shut off the mental image of a serpentine woman in lingerie because not only was it perverted and obnoxious, but downright _horrifying._ No, a powerful and independent woman such as her won’t wear such atrocious... _panties_. It would make her feel far less superior. She had to be messing with his pride. 

If this was one of her ways to humiliate him further, well, it was working. But like _hell_ was he going to give Voldemort that satisfaction. 

_“No, I am not wearing that. I have no clue if this is supposed to be some sick joke but thank you.”_

_“If that is your wish.”_ She exited the room and he followed her, naked and pink, but with his head held high. Soon, they reached the main room and he quickly jumped on the bed to cover himself with white linen. Thankfully, his magic was powerful enough to dry himself without the use of a wand. The bed was really warm and cosy. He sighed and laid down, placing his head on the fluffy pillow. Owl feathers, he noticed. Nagini too, glided up the bed and up to his hand - 

_“Hey! What are you-”_

_“Sharing warmth. The fireplace is out and I am too cold. Share your heat or I will make you wear that cloth you were so angered at.”_

Harry muttered something about stupid demanding snakes and relented. 

Soon, the exhaustion took over, and all the cosiness pulled him to sleep. Harry was out like a light - the Locket, Ring, Diadem and Nagini encompassing him from all sides. The Goblet, had inconspicuously taken shelter at the bed-side drawer. 

A nightly torment was his subconscious’ first expectation. Either a nightmare, ignited by all the deaths he recently witnessed at the battle of Hogwarts, or Voldemort’s barbarity, seen through her own eyes in real time. 

Instead, Harry felt someone stroke his hair comfortingly. 

He grew tense. 

_‘Relax, Harry...'_ a familiar voice crooned. He didn’t like the command, but the words soothed his soul like a balm. 

Soon, he felt another hand against his cheek, tracing his face ever so carefully with long nails, as if dealing with delicate porcelain. 

And another joined in caressing his bare throat and collar, the nails of this hand were chipped, but they didn’t scratch him, merely leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their stead. 

Two more hands joined in, massaging his feet which ached so badly due to being on the battlefield for so long. 

His heart fluttered pleasantly. 

Languidly, his eyes flickered open and he found everything around a bit hazy. He could see that he was on his bed but now four women surrounded him. Before he could process anything, soft crimson lips were against his, careful, gentle and sweet. She stole the breath from his lungs and left him like wet putty. 

Harry tried to touch the hair of the beautiful woman kissing him, but found that his hands were tied to the railing by something slippery and scaly. 

He mewled pitifully, causing the surrounding women to titter fondly. Soon, eight hands were all over his body, working out the knots from his muscles, easing his pain away. 

He felt so relaxed, that he didn’t mind the suffocating kiss. 

But the kiss eventually ended, and Harry gasped for oxygen, whining at the loss. There were two mouths near his face, one breathing on his left ear and another near his collarbone. There were several tinkles of laughter all around him, amused and excited by how Harry reacted to their teasing. He felt the two mouths press against his ear and neck, whispering something that sent shivers down his spine. 

_‘Ssssoon, my sweet. Ssssooon’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR  
> Nagini: Go bath.  
> Nagini: Go wear this.  
> Nagini: Go to bed.  
>   
> Harry: Go fuck yourself.  
> Nagini:  
> Nagini: HARRRYY I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED. YOU DO NOT TALK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT!  
> *  
> I absolutely *adore* Nagini for reasons unknown. I'm sorry but there was no LV in this chapter :( We will see what she's upto in the next chapter though.
> 
> Thank you so much for such wonderful comments on the last chapter! The high you get when your inbox shows someone replied on your work is delightful.


	5. Never Dare to Harm Him

Harry Potter stayed protected inside the Black ancestral house at Islington. Under _her_ care. Under _her_ control. Under _her_ protection. Lady Voldemort rarely felt as joyous and triumphant as she felt now. 

She was relieved at the discovery of her heritage and the Chamber. She was pleased when her housemates had bowed to her for the first time. She was satisfied after her success at creating a horcrux – a feat which no one had achieved since centuries. She was content when she was accepted as the supreme power by all those who took her dark mark during the first Wizarding war. 

Nothing compared to _this_ feeling, however. 

She would expect nothing less. Not after discerning the truth about her and Harry’s connection. The fact that he was her Horcrux just added to the joy of having his soul by her side. 

The rage, agony and bitterness she carried inside herself all these years were at last dissipating. She had been subjected to it for a long time. Not only when she was wandering aimlessly around Albania as nothing but only a pathetic wraith, but perhaps since the first time she started understanding the feeling of despair. 

She was by no means a good woman. Darkness still followed her everywhere just like she followed it and the woman reveled in it. 

Unbiddenly, a conversation from years ago popped into her now clearer mind. 

_“Amy. Can I have a moment of your time?”_

_She turned around after signalling the others to go out and wait._

_“_ _Yes,_ _Professor Dumbledore?”_

_“I see you have achieved excellent grades in your OWLs. I was wondering if you mind tutoring young Miss McGonagall for potions? She can do with some help and Horace has recommended you, of course.”_

_Amy narrowed her eyes. Dumbledore was behaving way too relaxed for her liking. Whether that walrus of a teacher recommended her name or not, it wasn’t like Dumbledore to consider her as anyone’s tutor._

_Unless...it’s the other way around._

_“I see what you’re doing professor. McGonagall is your favourite student, is she not? Another way to keep an eye on me?” the girl spat. She wasted no time in pretense since no matter how good an actress she was, Dumbledore always saw right through her anyway._

_Dumbledore sighed, his eyes dulling with disappointment._

_“Remember my dear girl, Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”_

Dumbledore had told this to her when she was fifteen after which the old man had went on to implant the same quote in the mind of one of the American muggle activists during the 1960s when the US was dealing with open racial discrimination. The situation was so out of hand, that the MACUSA had called in the then British Minister of Magic to aid them in controlling their no-maj crowd. 

The Dark Lady internally scoffed. Muggles discriminated their people on utterly ridiculous grounds such as skin colour, ethnicity and religion (she had first hand faced the repercussions of a war arising due to the latter) and yet muggle-loving fools like Dumbledore expected the Wizarding World to accept them with open arms. 

The Muggle - _mud_ – blood needed a taste of their own medicine. 

Just like her mindless pure-blooded sycophants tasted theirs when even after realising she was the heiress of Salazar Slytherin, they dared to think her beneath them because she was a _woman_. 

No matter. She had all the time in the world for that. She was powerful, resourceful, immortal. The Dark Lady was most of these things before too, but now she had _him_ with her too. 

_Harry Potter._

The boy was oblivious to what he meant to her. What she meant to _him_. 

As he should. Lady Voldemort was in no hurry to make the entire truth known to him, not yet. The boy was infuriatingly stubborn with his morals at worst and foolhardy at best, and ever-percipient as she was, Voldemort understood that Harry needed time to settle into his new role before informing him about what he was most eager to know. 

_Besides, the boy had, after all, been a constant thorn by her side. Let him suffer._

Their history lay as a narrative in a codex, shrouded from the eyes of the general public and modern scholars alike. 

It was now only her who was in possession of that knowledge since both Albus Dumbledore and Sybil Trelawney lay six feet underground. 

She would make sure to reward Rabastan for successfully killing the seer before they had all retreated from Hogwarts back to the forbidden forest. 

Despite of being bone-deep into her musings, she was very well aware of the cacophony of her inner circle’s boisterous merriment echoing off the high ceiling. 

In the vertical depths of Whitehall London, she had an exultant symposium of her most trusted Death Eaters sitting on both sides of the rectangular gilded table placed in the middle of the Atrium just next to the _Magic is Might_ monument. The monument was not proper in her eyes. She had a much better design in her mind now. 

The Dark Lady was the most flamboyant presence amidst the enclosure, undeterred by the jubilant buzz of the Death Eaters. 

After apparating away from the Grimmauld Place, she had gone to the Forbidden forest, just as she had promised. They had jumped and deeply bowed to her, undoubtedly waiting for the next command and curious about the Boy-who-Lived in equal measure. 

Voldemort had just smirked. 

_“Victory is ours. Gather in the Atrium.”_

One small assertion and their crackling laughter and cheers could be heard till Hogsmeade. No one questioned about Hogwarts and the rebels. No one questioned where she was off to. As it should. She would have ripped the tongue which was witless about how it should speak to their mistress. 

And so, here they were gathered. The table put exactly where she wanted and had let her most loyal servants bask in her victory. 

Voldemort opened her red eyes, which she had shut right after positing herself on the throne at the head of the table. One hand gesture to quiet down, and the room was deafeningly silent in an instant. 

_“My most faithful followers, this is our hour. The war is over.”_

Just at that proclamation, the Death Eaters begun with their thunderous cheers again. 

Bellatrix was singing praises of her mistress’ might as she shot red sparks from her latest wand, which she had stolen from her now dead metamorphmagus niece. Rabastan and Rodolphus joined her and exchanged crooked smiles with each other. 

Yaxley, who had proven himself quite useful this time around, was patting Greyback on the back which the wolf was not taking so kindly. Dolohov, Rowle, the Carrows, Rookwood, Selwyn, Mulciber, Avery and the others were chanting ‘Magic is might’ over and over. 

Crabble, Goyle and Severus were missing. No one questioned, since every war has martyrs. 

Not that Severus was a martyr in her eyes. He was a deplorable _traitorous_ turn-cloak. 

Narcissa and her useless husband, however, stood silent and unassuming, coiling within themselves as if wishing to disappear from her sight. 

Understandable, since young Draco was subjected to several Cruciatus curses on this table right in front of his parents because he was even more useless than his father and was now at the Malfoy Manor, healing from the after effects. 

Understandable, but undesirable. 

One wave of her hand, and everyone went quiet again. 

“Is something troubling you Lucius? Narcissa?” 

“No...no m-my Lady.” 

“Hmm...quite eloquent an answer, as expected from the house of Malfoy. I have to admit Lucius, your son sang so beautifully to my tune. I wonder, would your articulation be improved as well?” 

“I apologise on my son’s and husband’s behalf, my Lady. Pardon us for our failure. We shall aid you in any manner possible and shall not disappoint you again.”,Narcissa replied in a stunted voice. 

“The same excuse again. Learn something from your sister, will you? See how she keeps her husband on a leash? How she _knows_ to control his impulses and keep him on the right track so as to not displease me?” 

“Yes...my Lady. I shall keep that in mind.” 

“Don’t worry, my Lady. I will teach Cissy how to groom her dog and puppy properly! They will be playing tricks on your whims in no time!” 

Everyone laughed at it as Bellatrix smirked and the Malfoy couple went red in their faces. 

Even Voldemort chuckled a little. It jolted the other occupants out of their laughter but the Dark Lady was feeling magnanimous. Victory over the Wizarding World _and_ the soul she was destined to have, left her in a very positive mood. 

“The war is over and you all the fortunate ones who have come to be on the victorious side. You are about to embark upon a great crusade, towards which we have striven these many years. The result of our efforts will be unclouded glory, and a durable supremacy under my rule.” 

More cheers, none could contain their excitement and Lady Voldemort decided to indulge her men and women, just this once. 

“We shall no longer allow our audacious enemies to violate with impunity the territory of our great Wizarding Britain. For that, I have decided on the ranks and positions I deemed fit for each of you.” 

“Yaxley” 

“Yes M’lady!” 

“You will be the Head of Department of Law Enforcement. The Laws I write will come into effect when I say so. It will be you who would make sure they are adhered to.” 

“As you wish, M’Lady. I’m most honoured to be in that position.” 

“Good. Avery, you will lead the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I have plans for international relations, hence it is a very important task I am handing to you. Do _not_ disappoint me.” 

“Of course, My Lady! I-” 

“Silence. I do not have all day hearing your empty gratitude. I want results, not words. Mulciber, take care of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Dolohov, look after the Department of Transportation. Rookwood, seeing as you were an Unspeakable once, I hand over the Department of Mysteries under your care.” 

“Amycus, you will head the Muggle-born registration committee and Rabastan will look after Azkaban. As you all will recall, I had promised to leave Hogwarts untouched. No one is supposed to raid the castle if I do not say so. However, you are free to take in anyone who crosses the wards.” 

“These positions are interim. I shall change the Ministry operations in the near future and with that, the Departments. Until then, take care of your assigned duties. Yaxley, distribute the rest of the Departments to the others as required. They do not matter much. All of the Heads are supposed to recruit employees after rigorous tests and clearance. Am I understood?” 

All of them nodded. 

“My Lady? Am I not given any position?” 

"Oh shut it Lucius. You go home, dress up pretty and help your wife in housekeeping.”, quipped Rudolphus. 

“Better yet. Turn around three times and bark. Woof!” 

The Death Eaters guffawed but were immediately silenced by the ferocious red stare. 

“My Lady?” 

“Speak Bellatrix.” 

“I was thinking,” Bella licked her lips, fixing her gaze on her mistress. “now that we have won and you have finally rid us of that nasty Potty boy, can we all see his rotting corpse?” 

In a quick flash, before anyone could pull another breath, Voldemort rose from her throne. She was towering and intimidating, sublime in her wrath, her scorching glare aimed at Bellatrix with eyes that were _red_ , and they were always so _red_ , but now they were lit up like hot coals, burning like flames—her irises glowed crimson and her dreadlocks shone black – she could see herself in the wide pupils of Bellatrix’s eyes. 

The rage of the Dark Lady was not a quick lightning-flash of evanescent spurt of dark magic, it was an never-ending inferno. Bellatrix Lestrange could get away with many things, she was her most trusted, after all. 

But not _this._

The sheer... _audacity_ of her. 

Harry... _her Harry..._ corpse? 

Never. 

_“_ _Crucio_ _!”_

Shrieks, horrible and ear-splitting, tore their way out of Bellatrix’s throat right from the very insides of her diaphragm. The table banged vehemently as she flailed. She screamed until she couldn't anymore. Voldemort did not lift the curse for a long time, relishing the screams from the mouth that dared speak about a corpse of her beloved Harry. 

Finally, Voldemort ended the incursion. Bellatrix's muscles quivered in the aftereffects of the curse, her bosom drenched in cold sweat. 

“ _Harry Potter lives. He shall continue to live...under my protection_.”, she almost hissed in parseltongue, such was her fury. 

Her inner circle were cowering together, shaking while they watched with huge eyes, as shocked and as terrified as the current victim of the cruciatus was. Not a single one of them looked right in their heads. 

Pathetic. 

“I can see that most of you feel troubled by this new information. Let me paint you a picture then, so that there may be absolutely no chance at all for any…misunderstandings." 

"Harry Potter lives for reasons that do not concern you at all. He is under my care and his presence will be made known at the appropriate moment. Once it happens, I don't care if it is by accident or sheer coincidence, if as a result of your actions he receives so much as a bruise or a scrape, I will be carving retribution for it out of your hide. If his life is gravely endangered by any of your actions, I will hunt down every single blood relation of the person or persons responsible, and kill them as slowly and painfully as I know how.” 

“Then I will convert those dead relatives to Inferi and command them to annihilate every manor, town house, farm house, shops, business offices, and every establishment their family has to their name. I will then burn anything else still miraculously left standing at that point, to ashes and salt the very earth on which they once stood. And then kill the person responsible for injuring Harry Potter." 

The room was as silent as a tomb. No one was breathing. 

“Now get out of my sight, all of you. Get to the tasks you have been handed. Narcissa, stay behind." 

“Yes?” 

“Do _not_ question her Cissa, _please_ . _”_ Lucius whispered with clenched teeth to her wife. 

For once, the Malfoy head of house was sensible. 

“Yes, My Lady. I am here.”, Narcissa gracefully bowed; her features showing nothing about how she felt about witnessing both her son and sister being tortured and husband humiliated. 

It was a pity that such a wise woman had ended up among a circus of jesters. 

“Narcissa, I have a special task for you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort: Harry Potter has been such a constant thorn by my side uggh!  
> Random Death Eater guy: Ikr? Let's kill him!  
> Voldemort :  
> Voldemort : YOU DARE...?  
> Voldemort : Crucio! Avada Kedavra! Combo Attack! KN-44 gunning! I'll rip your head off with the Black Knight Halberd you fucking piece of - 
> 
> ***  
> Note: The last part of the chapter contains references to [The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695419/chapters/33957573) I tend to re-read my favourite lines from certain fics so many times that it gets stuck in the head. I sometimes scribble those quotes in my diary too...hence I kinda forgot the source of those lines.Thank you for letting me know in the comments section!  
> ***  
> Did Bellatrix really deserve that pain or was LV being a hypocrite? Hmm...
> 
> I am reallyyy sorry for the slow updates...I know the chapter is very short, but I wanted to put something up for you guys! I have weekend work as well and was almost caught at office, writing this lmao.
> 
> Thank you for such lovely comments in the last chapter! They keep oiling my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Reach out to me on [ Tumblr! ](https://youknowmevj.tumblr.com/)


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